


Lost Indeed

by polaropposites



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaropposites/pseuds/polaropposites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exhausted lovers make slow love after tons of fluff. Pretty much Harry is exhausted from being with Taylor and Louis is just defeated that his Holiday has been curl-less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Indeed

**Author's Note:**

> I've been so swamped since the beginning of September. I needed a break for the holidays. Hopefully now words will come quicker and things won't seem forced. I'm so sorry if this is bad.
> 
> Also, my tumblr is back up. thepolaropposites.tumblr.com.

Harry gets to their flat and drops his bags on the floor. He's drifting through the flat like he has sonar -- silently floating through waiting to hear that Louis is in proximity. He doesn't hear the telly and the kitchen is empty as he passes through. So he sprints to their room and freezes as he opens the door.

He feels like shit, without a doubt. The days he's spent with Taylor visibly wearing him thin. Harry isn't one for masks. Harry isn't one for hidden or for fake, but he had to do this.

Contractual obligations. The reason why he can't be, or love, who he wants to.

The incredible lack of subtlety from all management departments makes him cringe. He had to do a walk of shame. He saw the photos the smiles are tight and his shoulders are tense. It's like his body is screaming, "this is not what I want."

Then there was LA again, parading in front of very visible photographers in the woods. Harry furious and in tears when he walked into their hotel room that night because that tattoo was for Louis and she had no right showing up. Tattooing has always been his outlet and she sullied something pure and sacred.

Harry takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. He peers down at Louis again and his chest tightens. In his sleep, when a lulling calm should be visible on his lovers face there's a cringe and an unsettling hurt that has Harry forgetting about the frigidity of the past week. Louis just looks so small and he never looks small. He's like a tiny rubber duck swimming in an ocean of sheets and it hurts in so many ways.

It hurts because Louis is big and loud. It hurts because only Harry gets to see him like this, tucked into himself and meek. It hurts because he knows that furrow in his brow is going to become permanent a lot faster than he would ever want it to. 

All due to their relationship problems.

Mostly, it hurts because it's him. It's Harry and his stupid faux girlfriend who is actually too into him for it to be fake. It's Louis' exhaustion from Eleanor and protecting them. This is Louis being crushed by the world on his shoulders and Harry really just wants to take it and carry it himself.

He strips out of his clothes, down to the nude, and walks over to the bed. He wants Louis to take care of him, but his sentiments be damned. Louis needs him and it's his turn.

When he climbs in Louis' eyes shoot open immediately and Harry wants to cry because the exhaustion seeping through his body has taken place in the normally shimmering depths of his eyes and fuck, he just looks so devastated Harry's breath catches.

In less than a second,Louis' face is buried into Harry's neck; he feels the tears falling on his chest and they burn scars into his heart with their trails. Louis is gripping him so tightly he's bound to have bruises, but Harry's holding him so close he's honestly surprised Louis can breathe. Every tear is imissedyou and iloveyousomuchithurtseverywhere.

Harry blinks a few times to clear his own eyes of that suspicious burn -- it's not his time. Instead, he kisses Louis' forehead and draws circles in his back and whispers sentiments that are so sickeningly sweet the air almost doesn't want to taste it on his lips and spits it out so quickly it barely passes from Harry's lips to Louis' ears.

The holidays have never been this bad before. Last year Eleanor hadn’t been around for long and Taylor was just a girl they made fun of when they laid in bed tangled up in each other. Harry had been there for his birthday. Harry had been there for Christmas Eve and Christmas and everyday after because they still were allowed to live together.

This year has been so shitty and Harry is so ready for it to be over, but 2013 looks more daunting than he ever thought 2012 could be. He feels like he has less of Louis even though they’ve been with each other for almost an extra year now. It’s like their relationship and love has gotten lost as they’ve been dragged further into the labyrinth that Modest! is hiding them in.

Harry kisses Louis and feels the tears as they soak their cheeks. The only consolation outside of having Louis in his arms, is that when they’re trying to find their way out of the hell they’ve been led to, they’ll be led out as by the pieces of themselves they left behind.

Louis pulls away with a shudder and buries his face into Harry’s chest, burrowing, making home and reacquainting himself with the body he’s been denied for far too long. He takes deep breaths because if he speaks with a tremble he’ll never forgive himself. Instead of words, he slides his hand across Harry’s torso until their fingers find their proper spaces.

Harry knows that Louis is trying to apologise, that somehow the older lad thinks that he’s disappointed him. This is a sequence he’s used to, the tears that lead to silent communication so Louis can pull himself together, so instead of talking he shows. He pulls Louis arm up to his lips, readjusting their fingers so he can kiss the compass there.

The kisses are sloppy and wet; Louis is mesmerized watching the strings that trail from his skin when Harry pulls away. He catches his breath every time lips connect with ink, thoroughly surprised by the shot of heat it sends through his body. The notion is loving. It’s Harry telling him he’ll always be able to speak, broken or fixed, and that if he always chooses silence, Harry will always search and touch and tease until their wordless conversation is over.

Harry nips at the home and sucks in a bit of skin, leaving a mark that blends with the shading, but he can’t ignore the moan that slips out of Louis’ mouth at the contact. He does it again and again until Louis bites into his chest, sighing into his skin and warming his body.

They make love. There is no fucking into the bed or fights for dominance. Harry slowly pulls Louis up his body until their mouths can connect, running his hands over every curve and line. Transferring his admiration and awe through his fingertips.

Louis gasps when Harry flips them over, but quickly opens his legs so Harry can settle in between them. They kiss until they need to breathe and Harry finds Louis’ pulse and latches onto it only stopping when Louis’ nails dig into his back. He reaches over to their table and pulls out the lube.

He sloppily soaks his fingers while kissing his way down Louis’ body, not caring at all for embarrassment or finesse. He traces his finger around Louis’ rim, slowly pushing in as he sucks Louis’ tip into his mouth to counter the pain.

Harry looks up in time to see Louis’ back arch off the bed, chest broadening in the warm lighting of their bedroom. When Louis starts pushing back he adds in another finger and kisses his way back up to Louis’ mouth.

Their kiss is hardly as kiss at all. Harry is sucking Louis’ bottom lip into his mouth as he breathes hotly and moans. Suddenly he feels Louis’ hand around his wrist, their eyes connect and Harry’s chest constricts as his lover’s eyes all but plead for him to fill him up.

Harry kisses him, overwhelmed, and full of love. He leans back to grab the bottle, quickly coating himself, before Louis’ legs find themselves back around his hips. He connects their lips again, slowly sliding in, catching Louis’ moan in his mouth and responding with his own.

It’s been long, so Louis is tight and Harry can’t take it, moving sooner than he should. He feels it as Louis’ nails dig into his back, but soon they relax, and his pace takes a rhythm that has Louis whimpering beneath him.

Harry lifts up and when Louis brings his arms up to cup his face, Harry puts them on the bed behind Louis’ head and laces their fingers together until their flush against each other. He whispers how much he loves him into his ear. He offers words and accepts Louis’ whimpers and whines as replies.

Louis’ body tenses and his eyes close as Harry repeatedly pushes him over the edge. He tightens around Harry and both of them squeeze each other’s hands as the pleasure gets too much.

“Louis, come with me. I need you, boo. We can do this,” Harry says, breathy and hot into Louis’ mouth. Louis comes apart with Harry’s final thrust; the friction of their bodies rubbing together overwhelms him. He shudders, emptying out between them and feels Harry’s thighs as the shake beneath his legs.

When Harry pulls out it’s slowly, intimate in a way Louis never thought it could be. Almost as if even now, Harry is showing that he can take care of him in any way he needs. Louis goes to grab a towel, but Harry doesn’t let him up. He trails his tongue over his torso, cleaning up the mess Louis made between them.

Louis sighs and closes his eyes, thanking whoever or whatever was responsible for bringing him Harry. He laces their fingers together and yanks Harry off the bed this time, dragging him to the shower.

He washes up and cleans Harry off. He coos as Harry holds up the conditioner bottle in a silent question. When they’re through, hair washed and Louis’ body clean with the help of Harry’s wandering hands, they go back to the bed.

Louis leans forward and plants a kiss on Harry’s mouth, offering him a shy smile and some genuine happiness.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to come home to me like that, but thank you. I missed you. I love you so much.”

Harry smiles, sleep pulling at his eyelids, and cuddles closer to Louis. He’s glad the the first words Louis says are the ones he was expecting. The ones that have been repeated over and over since he’s climbed into bed, but trailing fingers don’t fill him with the same warmth as Louis’ voice.

They snuggle into the sheets and as Louis might still be the little duck in the ocean, Harry is the boat keeping him afloat.


End file.
